May Never Know.

To avoid ridicule, Martha Lowenston had kept her flock inside the barrier. Though not from her followers, whispers continued; those who had strayed were forgotten. She ruled her religion again, but she was still surrounded by suffering.

What happens if they take the shield apart? What if we are overpowered by radiation? Will they die—or live to curse me—when they realize I'm mistaken?

Her followers plotted on their own, their leader taking a backseat to their pursuit of enlightenment. It was well known that Maris would soon collide with the sun; its radiation promised transcendence. During that surge, they would hit the shield.

The threat of this cult, a group of people ready to destroy their planet, worried President James and Anna Wilton.

"Joshua, we're done if they take away the shield," Anna Wilton said.

"What can I do, honey, even though I know?"

"Deploy military equipment and station idle guards to strengthen security at the generator."

"I can't do that indefinitely. They will finally succeed if they are resolute.

"But can't you postpone them for as long as you can?"

"I'll try, but there's no assurance."

An assistant came in. "Sir, Mr. Stuart asks that you come right away."

"Thank you—let him know I'll be there soon."

"Yes, sir."

Anna Wilton pleaded with Joshua, "Don't let the terrorists win."

He said, "Don't worry," and shut the door.

Strolling along the corridor, he locked the door of the room on the left. "Mitchell, did you say something?"

A group of people, largely immigrants, are rebelling against democracy, sir.

"Are they powerful enough to take action?"

"They've rallied a lot of people despite these difficult survival conditions, and that's the problem."

"Are they not aware that we have preserved their lives?"

They don't understand logic. They point the finger at democracy—you, sir.

"What am I able to do?"

Make a speech. Win people over—break their allegiance. It is our only chance.

Bravo Shield IV's transit and communications were cut off by a third terrorist attack sixteen months prior to Maris' solar impact. Gregory Rylance refined his tactics, but with every attack, authorities learned more. He would soon require new strategies.

He would send someone to "overmedicate" Leonard Hollis in the hospital since he was annoyed that the second attack had not killed him.

At Bravo Shield II Hospital, Mitchell Conway paid Leonard Hollis a visit. The man was full of vitality, fresh out of a coma, and ready to be let free.

"Do you know who is responsible for the attacks, Mr. Hollis?"

"Will you keep me safe?"

"I will, but we must give it a name."

"He'll kill me—he's already tried."

"Who? We will prevent him.

"Gregory Rylance—Rylance."

"Of Rylance, Inc."

"That one."

"He's planning this?"

"He murdered three people who were aware and opposed."

"I am aware of Danvers and McCarten; who is the third?"

Alfred Gilton, a friend from his youth. didn't prevent him from getting rid of threats. You're not secure here; he's after me. Go!

Conway left the room in panic and called the FBI. Distracted, he ran into a man who was going into Hollis's room.

Jacobs from the FBI is here. How may I be of assistance?

"I've got a name, Conway."

"All right."

"This is Gregory Ry—" A shriek interrupted him. He turned to see the man he had run into come out with a rifle.

"Conway? Are you there? Jacobs pushed.

"This is Gregory Rylan, Jacobs—" Conway was interrupted in midsentence by three muffled gunfire.

Unable to make out words, Brian Jacobs sat in his office and heard cries over the line.

"Conway! Are you present?

There was a voice. "Hello?"

"Yes—what took place?"

"The man was shot—he was shot." The tone trembled with shock.

“What man?”

"The person you spoke with."

"How are you aware?"

It's his dead cell phone. His blood. There was a gagging sound, and then Jacobs hung up and cursed. Only the incomplete name Gregory Rylan remained when his lead was lost.

President James Wilton spoke to the nation two weeks after the incident, vowing action in a speech that was broadcast on all televisions and televisions.

"You are aware of the third attack that took place two weeks ago, Canadia Shield members. I send my sincerest sympathies to everyone who has lost a loved one.

"With immediate effect, I am creating the Canadia Shield Counter-terrorism Office to expose and stop these attackers as long as these attacks continue.

"I promise to bring these terrorists to justice and to exact revenge for every life lost. I appreciate your support of me and our country.

Gregory Rylance laughed as he listened. It had been unfortunate but necessary to kill the FBI agent at the hospital. He wouldn't be stopped by a counterterrorism office.

He called Bernard, changed their arrangements, and by the end of the call, he was almost laughing. Nothing the president did could prevent him from winning.

The day following the lecture, the colonizing team discovered their actual mission. While some were taken aback, the majority had come to that conclusion, accepting the dangers and being happy to join as families when appropriate.

In order to provide terrestrial sustenance in the event that only one survived, Jonathan Aston gathered livestock, pigs, chickens, and edible plants and distributed them among the ships.

Although Martin Wilkerson improved laser accuracy by refining the diamond chambers, their scale was still an issue. Although he yearned for Carlton Scythe's assistance, he put anti-universe mastery first—unless the ships were slow.

Bravo Shield IV, Alpha Shield I, and Bravo Shield VII were the three attacks that isolated each other within two weeks of the speech. Space narrowed and dissatisfaction increased as immigrants poured into the remaining shields. More shields were called for.

Following Jacobs's lead, the Canadia Shield Counter-terrorism Unit (CASCU) hunted Gregorys with last names like "Rylan." Seventeen suspects remained after twenty were found dead. Six were regularly watched.

Tyler Methews, one of Rylance's destroyed allies and a traitor inside, led the endeavor. He rose from poverty after his firm failed.

Driven to confront Theodore and Georgia Philmore for their scheme against his unidentified brother, Martin Wilkerson went back to the courthouse. After the attack, Georgia Philmore quit, so he asked the administrator of her section.

"Pardon me, could you tell me Georgia Philmore's fate?"

The man answered, "We can't tell non-family members about that."

"Her brother-in-law is me."

"Can you demonstrate it?"

"Do I have to? My wife is upset and has begged me to locate her grandmother, who passed away recently.

"Where did she go that she didn't tell you?"

"No, we were unaware; it was abrupt."

"All right, once—no more favors, please."

"Thank you, sir."

Martin Wilkerson, carrying her address, knocked, clutching a silenced pistol under his jacket. An old woman responded.

"Young man, how may I help you?"

"Ma'am, is Georgia Philmore present?"

I apologize; I just moved in a week ago. Can you see the boxes? Martin Wilkerson looked past and saw their disorganized sprawl—too careless.

"Are you certain you recently moved in?" Perhaps I'm overly suspicious.

"Yes."

Would you mind if I looked around?

"Have a good cause?"

"Georgia Philmore, a friend, claimed to have left me something here."

"I guess so, but don't mess with anything."

Martin Wilkerson searched for hidden residents, but the garage, basement, restrooms, and closets were all empty. He saw the woman hovering close to the kitchen door and resigned.

"May I check the kitchen, ma'am? Cooking was Georgia Philmore's passion.

"I would prefer that you didn't."

"Please—it's crucial."

"All right, but keep everything untouchable."

He looked about the kitchen and found nothing wrong. He slammed the door, pretended to leave, and then opened it again without a word as the woman was dusting boxes. Theodore and Georgia Philmore, who had tricked him, came out of a floor hatch.

Martin Wilkerson opened the door and remarked, "I knew you'd be here."

Georgia Philmore yelled, "Theodore, watch out—get free!" as Theodore cursed, stuck in the middle of his escape.

"Run, Georgia Philmore! "You can do this on your own," he said.

Fixated on Theodore, she ran away, crying, without Martin Wilkerson seeing.

"You ought to be deceased," Theodore spit out. "My hitman didn't work out."

"What do you mean?"

Did you believe that your father's shadow was all that those murderers were? I mailed one.

"You ought to have killed me yourself if that was your goal."

"Perhaps I will." Theodore swung free, grabbed a board, and doubled over Martin Wilkerson. He was struck again.

Theodore froze as the elderly woman shrieked in and raised the board for a deadly blow. Martin Wilkerson rose to his knees in agony and rolled away.

Martin Wilkerson dodged, standing fully, and Theodore swung again. He dove and tackled Theodore at the knees as the board arced laterally. The board slipped free as they both fell.

Martin Wilkerson leaped to his feet, kicked Theodore in the face, then stomped his calf, breaking it. But too much blood had already tarnished his conscience, so he was unable to kill. Rather, he placed Theodore in the hatch after binding him. It was not Martin Wilkerson's fault if he passed away there.

He fled, realizing that Georgia Philmore had gotten away. He had hoped to put an end to it, but it now appeared out of his grasp.